when the fire goes out

May 19, 2005 20:55

you better learn to fake
its better to burn out
than to fade away

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a good poem i found emmilaura May 22 2005, 22:02:17 UTC
CLEAN

By David J. Daniels

It took a parceling out of pills
issued governmentally
just to get you off pills
and stabilized mentally--

just as it took, from your stool and laquered table,
a cavalry of bouncers
to haul you off--your stable
shotglass tower of half-ouncers

leaning a bit, as the leaning tower of Pisa,
refusing to topple, though structurally unsound--
as you leaned into the squad car with a "please" a
girlish "thank you kindly, sirs," and found

yourself holed up in a cell for the night. Your cell warden
found you, if not repentant, at least
inclined to chatter; by morning the "lord" in
your "lordy lord" turned mildly reverant. Released

to the gently prodding hands of St. Luke's
Community Health--the interns' hands that held you down
through sweat and the shaky-shakes,
a rag to the forehead and straps at the knees, till at last you found

your way, yea veerily, into "the golden-rodded vale"
with a stunning volte-face that shocked the nuns,
held out your tongue to the viaticum, who once
held intently the metal lip of your metal vomit pail,

and nightly, took in "The Treasured Volgate"
rendered in amine,
a six-part videodisc they screened
down in Recovery B. The weight

of your life got weightier the more
they cleaned you out,
weightier than your
shuffleboard pucks of meat,

but at St. Luke's was a system of valves
and seamles counter valves,
round little bowholes for letting out steam
that gradually brought you round, as gradually round again you came

to visit. We, who'd seen you clean off
a dance floor with your famously lewd
gyrations--and times a-plenty who'd
clean you off

with a bar rag and a spot of seltzer--crude,

corrupt, you came back clean,
if notably less witty,
no more drama from the drama queen,
if less pretty.

Ed--
I thought this poem was really good, and wanted to share it with you. I thought you would appreciate the dry humor and the subject matter. When I first read it, it reminded me of Jesse, and all those crazy days...
I especially like the sound of the last stanza. Do you like the poem? What do you think?
--e.

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